The Weight of the World
by Child of Ragnarok
Summary: Plagued by the demons of the past two years, and still carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, Harry is carrying a much greater weight than any sixteen-year-old has any right to. When he finally can't cope any longer, help comes from an unexpected source.


**Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter franchise and all of its related characters, locations and concepts are the property of J. K. Rowling. This is a fan work which is not intended to monetize in any way. Please support the official release.

* * *

 **THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD  
 _by Child of Ragnarok_  
**

The long stairwell to the Astronomy Tower had never had any portraits hanging in it, and was seldom patrolled by prefects apart from cursory investigations at the foot of the stairs. As a result, nobody noticed how the door at the top of the stairs, leading out to the turret roof, opened briefly before closing, seemingly all of its own accord.

As Harry Potter stepped through the door to the turret, winded from the long climb, he shrugged off his father's prized invisibility cloak, leaving it in a haphazardly crumpled pile at the door. He stepped out onto the unprotected roof, wincing slightly at the cold December wind that was tearing at his clothes and hair. At this height, the wind was merciless.

He briefly noted that the sky was incredibly beautiful tonight. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and all of the stars were visible in all of their breathtaking glory. For a moment, he felt almost calm. This was his element. Harry had always had an affinity for high places; he had been an avid tree climber in his formative years, mostly to avoid Dudley's gang but also because he had always, for some reason, enjoyed the sensation of climbing higher. Then, of course, he had had Quidditch at Hogwarts, where he had been not only encouraged, but required, to perform dangerous stunts in order to keep up with the tiny little ball that was his objective. Compared to that, the sensation of being up here on a solid tower (with no murderous cannonballs chasing after him) should have been an absolute cakewalk.

And yet it wasn't.

After the events at the Ministry in June, Harry had been completely devastated. Because of his stupid mistake, the closest thing he had had to a father was gone forever. Sirius was dead, all because Harry had just charged in. Fortunately the Order had kept the exact sequence of events under wraps, so at least Rita Skeeter hadn't found out about it – Harry had to suppress a shudder at the mere thought of the field day that vile woman would have had with that tidbit – and now the Prophet was painting him up as some sort of... he wasn't entirely sure. A heroic figure, prevailing against impossible odds? A totem, a figurehead, a symbol for the continued struggle against darkness? A prophesied savior?

Whatever it was, he had noticed a change in the general attitude towards him at Hogwarts. With very few exceptions, the Slytherins had continued to treat him like dirt, which he was completely used to. Some other students, probably still recovering from a year of Ministry indoctrination, were still suspicious of him, viewing him as a lunatic desperate for attention. But most of them appeared to treat him with some sort of _reverence_. As if he was their Messiah, sent unto them to deliver from evil.

And he was _sick_ of it all.

For the love of Merlin, he was _sixteen_! He shouldn't have to deal with this kind of thing! He was already forced to deal with a murderous sociopath baying for his blood to avoid his own death at the hands of a wishy-washy prophecy; did the rest of his peers even for a second consider the added pressure they were mounting on him?

His mind was starting to go numb and blank. The only thing he could hear was the wind, and the little voice niggling in the back of his mind.

 _Your fault._

Normally, Harry would have been on his guard when it came to hearing voices given the fiasco at the Ministry, but he knew he couldn't fight this voice. It was his own.

 _Your fault._

Truth be told, the incessant little voice had been there since the disastrous ending to the Tri-Wizard Tournament, which had initiated the entire sequence of events here. But it had only grown louder since the Ministry.

 _Your fault._

"Shut up", Harry mumbled out loud. He was almost surprised to hear his voice work.

 _Some hero you are,_ the voice snickered. _Your godfather is dead because Harry bloody Potter wouldn't look before he leaped._

"Shut up!" Harry clapped his hands over his ears, uselessly. He knew it wouldn't stop the voice.

 _But you know it's your fault!_ The voice was sounding gleeful now.

"That's not..." Harry was now curled up on the cold turret, hands over his ears and eyes shut tight.

 _Look at you,_ the voice chided. _You're running away from your duties, shirking your responsibilities. How are you supposed to save wizarding Britain from Voldemort when you can't even keep yourself out of your own mind?_

Harry was beginning to whimper. Faces were starting to flicker in front of his closed eyes. A face that could have been his own, but for the slightly higher age and the eyes being the wrong color. A beautiful young woman with fire-red hair and almond-shaped green eyes. His father and mother were joined by the handsome visage of Cedric Diggory and weathered features of Sirius Black. They were all staring accusingly at him.

 _Your fault._

 _Your fault._

 _Your fault._

 _Your fault._ The voices were echoing in his head.

More faces flashed before his weary eyes. Ron and Hermione, the rest of his dormmates and friends, the Weasleys; everyone who had banked their entire future existence on his prevailing against the greatest dark wizard to ever grace the world, all staring at him expectantly.

The Death Eaters from the graveyard, contempt practically oozing out of their masks. Bellatrix Lestrange, cackling deliriously while simultaneously making doe eyes at the face of Voldemort, who was regarding him with an almost callous sense of disregard as if Harry wasn't more than a worm to crush underfoot.

It was too much. Too much.

As though in a daze, Harry stood up and began slowly walking towards the parapet. He gazed over the edge. It was too dark to properly make out the ground beneath, but he could tell that the drop was dizzying.

He put one foot onto of the parapet. Then another. He could feel the wind beckoning him to complete the motion, all of the voices in his head tormenting him. _Come on, Harry. One more step and we will no longer trouble you. All of your problems will end._

He closed his eyes, mentally apologizing to Ron and Hermione. He half-wished he had left them a note, some sort of last goodbye.

 _All your problems will end, Harry._

He steeled himself and prepared to take that one final step out to solve all of his problems. It would be so easy. Just one step.

 _Come on, Harry._

 _Harry._

 _Harry..._

"HARRY!"

Harry had dimly managed to recognize that the last voice did not come from within his own head when a pair of arms were put around his midriff and a sharp tug backwards sent him back onto the cold turret roof, and the moment was gone.

Harry's eyes were still closed tightly and his head was spinning with the enormity of what he had just been about to do. He heard someone panting next to him from the exertion of pulling him back off the parapet. He slowly sat up and opened his eyes to take in who it was, and what he saw was possibly one of the last people he would have expected.

"Cho?"

-oOoOo-

The seventh-year Ravenclaw had had plenty of time to herself lately, having isolated herself nearly completely after the beginning of the year. She had remained in contact with Michael Corner during the summer, but when they had met up in Diagon Alley, they had both agreed that the spark had fizzled out and decided to go their separate ways.

Marietta still wouldn't come out of hiding, as the word _SNEAK_ tattooed on her forehead still hadn't cured entirely and Marietta was convinced it would scar. Privately, Cho doubted it. While she didn't know a lot about Hermione Granger, she had a hard time picturing the shy, studious girl as vengeful. Whatever the case, Marietta had blamed Cho for talking her into joining the DA, and she had taken all of the rest of their clique with her.

Cho sighed to herself as she snuck out of the Ravenclaw common room. She needed to clear her head, and the way she preferred to do that was climbing the top of the Astronomy Tower. It helped both to keep her Seeker's physique in trim and the exertion usually helped her to avoid brooding. Slinking past the prefects on duty had almost become second nature for her at this point, and she was soon at the base of the stairs.

When she had reached the top of the stairs, she was winded. She would usually turn straight back down, back to the Ravenclaw common room and wash up before going to bed. But this time, she noticed that the door was slightly ajar. There weren't supposed to be any Astronomy classes tonight. Was someone else out here?

Her curiosity piqued, Cho decided to peek through the door. The first thing she noticed was a crumpled pile of what looked like silver fabric lying next to the door. So someone else was out here.

Cho looked up from the bundle and got the shock of her life. Someone was just climbing up on the parapet. Someone wearing robes with red trim and with a mess of unruly, jet black hair.

Cho's eyes widened. _Surely he can't be...!_

When it looked like Harry was about to brace himself to jump, Cho reacted on pure instinct. She broke out in a mad dash towards him while screaming his name.

"HARRY!"

Then, without thinking, she had thrown her arms around him and flung him back off the parapet onto safe ground. She flopped down next to him, winded from the additional exertion, unable to do anything but breathe for a while.

Then he sat up, looked up at her and spoke in a hesitant voice. "Cho?"

Cho continued just breathing for a few more moments until she felt like she had gotten control back over herself. Then she managed to scramble herself up onto her knees, heedless of the cold that was beginning to crew up her legs from the snow she was sitting on. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

Harry just looked at her as if still in a daze. "I just..."

"'You just' decided to jump from the highest tower of Hogwarts, didn't you?" Cho said, glaring at him. "How could you even consider it? What about your friends? What about Voldemort?!"

And Harry snapped.

-oOoOo-

Harry dimly registered that Cho had saved his life, and that she was talking to him, but it took him a moment to get his faculties working enough to register what she was saying.

"...were you thinking?!"

Harry really had no answer. "I just..."

"'You just' decided to jump from the highest tower of Hogwarts, didn't you?!" Cho said, and he saw she was glaring at him. Harry felt irate; her accusatory tone was not helping. "How could you even consider it? What about your friends? What about Voldemort?"

Harry noticed that she hadn't even flinched when expressing that hated name, but didn't pay it much heed when her demanding questions sunk in. She was just like everybody else.

Harry had _had_ it.

"What about them?!" he yelled, causing Cho to flinch. "What about my friends and Voldemort? Sure, Cho, let me just lead my friends to their deaths like I almost did last summer! Everyone thinks I'm some sort of savior, but I'm not! I almost got five of my friends killed in June - I _did_ get my godfather killed - just because Voldemort planted something in my mind!"

Cho was visibly taken aback at that; Harry hadn't intended to reveal that much. But he couldn't stop himself - he had waited far too long to get this out of his system. "I'm sorry if I'm shattering your expectations, Cho, but I'm not your hero! I never was! One of the last links to my parents - one of the only people who loved me for _me_ and not for the Boy-Who-Lived - is dead because I was stupid enough to fall for Voldemort's ruse! It's all my fault!"

He could feel the tears building up, but he fought them back. He was not going to cry. "I can't be your savior! So many have already died because of me... my parents... Cedric..." Cho was looking choked up at the mention of Cedric's name. "...and Sirius... Who's going to be next? Ron? Hermione? Dumbledore? You?" Harry felt breathless and knew that his tirade was just about over. "I... I can't do it, Cho. I just don't have it in me. It's too much."

Cho's eyes were now also glistening. His eyes were stinging and he looked down to the ground where he sat, furiously blinking tears out of his eyes, choking down a few sobs. He was _not_ going to cry.

-oOoOo-

Never in her life had Cho felt so ashamed of herself. This boy, this young man, was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. She couldn't imagine how much pressure he would be under; he had hidden it well. Part of her wanted to berate him for not telling anyone, but a much larger part of her chastised herself for not seeing the signs.

Harry had obviously been traumatized following the events after the third task, when Cedric - her first love - had been killed. And Cho hadn't exactly helped him with it, she could admit that much; most of her sixth year had been a jumble of confused emotions and guilt for liking Harry, as if allowing herself to try to move on was a great insult to Cedric's memory. Much of her relationship with Harry had, indeed, been a rebound, even though she had had genuine feelings for him; none of them had been in a good place at the time, with her still mourning and his obvious inexperience, not to mention having to deal with a Ministerial smear campaign, and both of them had made mistakes.

While the adventures of the six at the Ministry had rapidly grown to become a Hogwarts legend, Cho hadn't known exactly what had happened, other than that Sirius Black had died, that he had been innocent and that he had been Harry's godfather. But now, knowing that Harry had watched his godfather die and that he believed it to be his fault, all of his traumas over the year must have come to a head. And still it seemed like nobody had ever given him any real help. She had heard one of her Muggleborn friends talk about "trauma counselors" in her third year, and while she had initially scoffed at the idea of talking to somebody as a form of medical treatment, she could now see the merit. Merlin knew she could have used one herself after watching Harry come back with the corpse of her boyfriend - and Harry had gone through hell at the time, watching him die, duelling the monster who had killed him and returning his body to his parents to prevent him from being desecrated as the Death Eaters surely would have done.

And through it all, he still believed it was his fault. He had carried it with him throughout the year.

Cho felt her eyes stinging with tears, but she resolutely refused to let them fall. She had to be strong for him.

He was now staring down into the ground now, choking down sobs. He was clearly fighting the tears, and he was just as clearly fighting a losing battle. Without thinking, she scooted closer to him and pulled him to her, feeling him tense slightly before relaxing. She felt a lone tear trickle down his cheek and knew he was at his breaking point.

"Let it out", she whispered.

-oOoOo-

Then he heard the rustle of cloth against stone as she scooted closer and suddenly he was in her arms. He tensed for a moment, but slowly relaxed into the embrace, even if it also broke down his defenses and a single tear trickled down his cheek.

Cho must have felt it. "Let it out", she whispered.

And Harry stopped fighting, and let it out. Clutching to Cho like a man drowning, he let out all the tears he had not allowed himself to cry and all the bottled up emotions he had not allowed himself to feel ever since the day of the third task. He knew he would not be a pretty sight, and he knew Malfoy would never let him live it down if he saw him right now, but at the moment, he didn't care. It felt strangely cathartic, cleansing even, to finally let everything out. And through it all, Cho didn't say a word, only making soothing noises and softly stroking his hair.

He had no idea how long he sat there crying into her shoulder, or how long Cho held him, but eventually the tears abated and he felt like he was back in control again. He looked up and leaned back a little, looking into the pretty face he had fallen for in his third year. He could see a streak down Cho's cheek as well.

Harry was ashamed of himself. He had given Cho a chewing out she most certainly didn't deserve, after she had saved his life, and he had thrown Cedric in her face again - as if she needed to be reminded. He looked down at the ground, unable to look her in the eye. "I'm sorry", Harry murmured.

-oOoOo-

Cho had no real idea how long she sat there, holding him. The floor was seriously cold and it was a long time since she had lost the feeling in her legs. Still, she was not going to complain. This was their savior - no, not even that, this was a _child_ \- who was in desperate need of support, and she was willing to give it to him for as long as needed. She even felt strangely honored, in a way. For some reason, she could tell that he hadn't cried like this in a long time, if ever, and almost certainly not in front of anyone else.

Not minding the cold, she continued to occasionally make little soothing noises, sometimes hushing him a little as he cried, and sometimes gently stroking his hair. She knew he did not need words right now, but closeness. She felt a trecherous tear slip down her cheek and furiously clamped down on the rest of them.

Eventually, he seemed to calm down and he leaned back, looking at her with those eyes. She had forgotten just how startlingly green they were.

Then he looked away. "I'm sorry." The words were faint, almost unintelligible.

"For what?" Cho asked. "For showing me that you're human? For telling me how you've been wronged?" She gave him a cheeky grin. "For getting my robe all soggy?"

He winced at that. "That wasn't... I mean... I just..."

"It's okay, Harry." The smile on her face was now genuine.

"I just didn't want to..." He trailed off. "I didn't want to look weak..."

"Harry." Cho gently lifted his chin with her finger so he looked at her. "You're definitely not weak. You're probably the strongest person I ever knew."

"But..." It was clear that Harry was struggling to comprehend that. "I was just going to jump off a wall! And all those things I said... I took it out on you without meaning to..." Now there was a clearly panicked note to Harry's voice.

"You weren't weak", Cho murmured, stroking his hair again. "You just... you had just been strong for too long." She smiled. "And don't worry about what you said. I think we could all use a good bollocking sometimes, especially when it comes to how you've been treated. You're only sixteen - you should only have to worry about Quidditch, grades and girls, not vicious dark wizards trying to kill you."

Harry relaxed slightly, but the guilty look remained. "But you're in this war too, and I threw it in your face..."

"Harry, it's okay", Cho said. "I know you're frustrated, and you have every right." Cho looked right into his eyes as she said the next part. "I also know you're really scared, but it's okay. I'd be worried if you weren't." She sighed. "I know you're going to give your all to defeat V-Voldemort, because that's just who you are. But it's okay to be scared, and most importantly, you will never have to go it alone. All those who love you - yes, Harry, they love _you,_ not some vision of what society thinks you ought to be - the Weasleys, and Hermione... even-"

 _Even me._

Cho mercilessly clamped down on the end of that sentence. She had no idea where it came from. She had no idea if she felt that, and if she did, she most certainly had no right to feel it anymore.

"- even Dumbledore, I'm sure." Mentally applauding herself for her quick thinking, Cho smiled at him. "I'm sure you can think of a few things worth fighting for in this world. But don't forget..."

Cho laid her head on his shoulder.

"Never forget that _you_ are worth fighting for, Harry Potter."

If Harry had noticed her near-slip, he said nothing about it. He just heaved a deep, surprisingly content sigh and let his head rest against hers for a moment. "Thank you, Cho."

Cho allowed herself a cheeky grin. "Hey, anything to make sure there's some worthy Quidditch competition. You wouldn't _believe_ some of the people I've had to play."

"If they're anything like Malfoy, I can relate." Harry's voice became much warmer. "I really mean it, Cho. Thank you."

Cho lifted her head from his shoulder and gazed at him. "You're welcome, Harry. Just... never do that again. Talk to someone if you feel like you need to. I'm sure your friends would be willing to listen, and even if they're not, I always am."

Tapping into what little Gryffindor courage she had absorbed from Harry's embrace, she kissed him lightly, fleetingly, on the cheek. "Promise me you won't bottle it up. You're worth fighting for, Harry."

Harry smiled bashfully. "I will. I promise."

Harry made to stand up, slowly and achingly due to the stiffness in his legs. Cho must have been every bit as awkward getting up. They smiled at each other's awkwardness and the intimacy of the moment they had just shared.

Then Cho heard three voices at the tower entrance.

"Harry!"

 _"Harry!"_

"Don't do it, Harry!"

And three blurs in red-trimmed robes attacked him in a fierce multi-armed hug.

Cho looked at the chaos that was Harry embracing his two best friends and the littlest Weasley, making out some small snippets of conversation.

"...were out of the tower..."

"...map said you were up here..."

"...also showed that you were on the parapet..."

"...whatever were you _thinking?"_

And she smiled.

There was hope.


End file.
